


Every Move Just For Herself

by Recourse



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Drunk sexual activity, F/F, Lap Dances, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: Rachel finds a smutty magazine in her and Chloe's hideout, and she refuses to let it go. No matter how much Chloe wishes she would.





	Every Move Just For Herself

Chloe’s too drunk for this shit.

Rachel’s eyes are what makes her think that, so she looks away. Rachel doesn’t say a word. She’s been weird tonight. _Looking_ at Chloe a lot, losing her train of thought when she talks, trying to outpace Chloe in drinking. Sometimes she gets like this. Chloe’s never sure what to do about it.

The sounds of a dying phone speaker fill the small space of the hideout, lit by said phone sitting on the center table. Rachel kicks a bottle and sends it skidding across the concrete floor, stumbling to the other side of the hideout and crouching down, rooting around in the clothes pile for something. Chloe slides back further into her seat, going nearly horizontal. She’s almost ready to pass out.

“ _Hello,_ ” Rachel slurs, lifting something off the floor. Chloe strains to lift her head up, and suddenly she feels wide awake, jolting upright in her chair as goosebumps break out all over her, a chill curdling her stomach.

Rachel’s dangling a magazine from one corner, swaying it back and forth. “Now, I don’t think I put this here, but it looks like _fascinating_ reading,” she says with a smirk, sitting down on the bench across from Chloe and putting the magazine on her lap. She makes a show of licking her thumb before turning the page.

“Rachel—”

“Ooh la- _la,_ Chloe. And I mean that as sarcastically as possible. I mean, really.” She holds out the centerfold in Chloe’s direction, a blonde girl (Chloe wants to die) with obviously fake tits, legs spread wide. “Pedestrian taste.”

“Hey, man, don’t show me that shit,” Chloe attempts, valiantly, reaching forward and swatting down the magazine. “You wanna perv, do it on your own time.”

“Oh, so this isn’t yours?” Rachel asks, raising a disbelieving eyebrow as she picks up the magazine again so that Chloe can throw it back to the ground. “Well, it’s not _mine…_ ”

“Probably some weird hobo,” Chloe mutters, shifting uncomfortably.

“Who happens to have the same issue Step-Dick got in the mail last week?”

Chloe cringes. “Why the hell do you know that, Rach?”

“I’m observant!”

“Look, who cares about some smut mag?” Chloe asks, crossing her arms. “Jesus, Rachel, you’re acting like this matters. At all.”

“It matters ‘cuz it’s _yours,_ ” Rachel insists, picking up the magazine a third time and holding it out of Chloe’s reach, rolling it up so she can point it at her. “And you’re being all weird about it.”

“Excuse me, but if anyone’s being weird it’s you,” Chloe points out.

Rachel sighs dramatically and leans back, thumbing another page. “So, should I take you out to a strip club for your birthday, or…?”

Chloe is really starting to hate this. She doesn’t want to _talk_ to Rachel about...this. The thing. Where she likes girls. Fuck, she’s been obvious enough, why is Rachel acting like this is new information?

She has to throw her off. She hopes she can manage to throw her off; she’s really fucking determined about this.

“Nah,” Chloe says, casually taking her cigarettes from her pocket. “Why would I need to go to a strip club when you take your top off for like, literally, any reason.”

“I do not!” Rachel insists. “I...I leave my bra on!”

Chloe rolls her eyes and lights up. “Point stands, Rach.”

Rachel makes some difficult-to-discern grumbling noise, and then she drops the magazine and grabs the bottom of her crop-top. “You’re just, uh, proving my point,” Chloe stammers.

Rachel lets out a soft laugh. “Not trying to _disprove_ it,” she says, throwing her shirt against the wall. She unzips her shorts next, and now Chloe’s just staring, like an idiot, because _fuck._ “If you went to a strip club…” she begins, kicking her shorts off her legs and getting up, approaching Chloe, “Would you wanna get a lap dance?”

“I, uh, hm—” Chloe can’t form words. Especially when Rachel casually crawls into her lap and plucks the cigarette right from her mouth.

“I mean, if you don’t need them because _I_ can already do it all for you…” Rachel takes a long drag off the cigarette, breathing out a plume of smoke. “Then I better do it, right?”

“Um.”

Rachel giggles, looking down into Chloe’s dumbstruck face. “Or else you might leave me all alone…”

 _Never,_ Chloe thinks, like the sucker she is, as Rachel reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra. Jesus. Rachel must be drunk. Like, _really_ drunk. She doesn’t do this unless she is. That thought poisons the thrills that had been building in her stomach, until Rachel’s bra falls down her arms and she’s actually topless and holy shit. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Rachel laughs again, sucks on the cigarette, then puts her mouth over Chloe’s. Smoke tastes better laced with lipstick. Chloe’s hands move on their own, fingertips just barely grazing Rachel’s waist, but she pulls out of the kiss and swats a hand away.

“No touching,” Rachel insists, waving a finger in Chloe’s face. “‘S the _law._ ”

Chloe swallows. Why does it always have to be a game? Can’t she just…

No. Then she’ll stop. Chloe doesn’t want her to stop.

A new song starts on the phone. One of Rachel’s dumb techno beats. Rachel smirks as she hears it kick in, tosses the cigarette away. “Now how many did you pay for, Miss Price?” Rachel asks, leaning into Chloe’s ear.

“I — What?”

“ _Songs._ That’s — that’s how you pay ‘em. By the song.”

“Done a lotta research on this?” Chloe asks, mood broken slightly.

“Thought about doin’ it when I turned eighteen. Only reason I didn’t is ‘cuz there’s no real clubs around here,” Rachel murmurs. “Coulda used the money to bust us outta this town…” She clears her throat. “Fuckin’, not the point, how many?”

“Uhh,” Chloe says, trying to find Rachel’s headspace, to play along, “I’m a rich bitch, I’ll keep it comin’ long as you keep dancing?”

“ _That’s_ the spirit.” And then, Rachel does dance.

She keeps her knees planted on the armrests, no touching between them at all, for the first song. Chloe’s just watching her move and sway, trying to keep her mouth closed, but _fuck._ Chloe could just — if she wanted — her nipples are _right at mouth level —_

God, she wishes she hadn’t fantasized about that before, because now it’s here and it’s a lot to deal with. She can feel how red her face is. She tries not to drool.

For the next song, Rachel lowers herself. Her crotch, right on Chloe’s thigh. “I thought there, there was no touching?” Chloe says, gulping.

“ _You_ don’t touch _me,_ ” Rachel clarifies. “I get to do whatever I want.” And then she presses her knee between Chloe’s thighs, and Chloe’s response turns to a high-pitched whine.

She’s not dancing anymore. She’s just grinding. Chloe throws herself back into the chair, her eyes squeezed shut, biting down on her lower lip so no other weird sounds escape. She feels Rachel’s hands on her shoulders, her breasts against Chloe’s chest, the force of their contact growing stronger and more urgent as Rachel pants hot, wet air against her neck.

Rachel seals her mouth over Chloe’s skin and sucks hard, and Chloe can’t help but cry out. A damp spot spreads on Chloe’s jeans, and she gasps as she realizes that it’s from _Rachel,_ soaking through both of their clothes, holy _shit,_ she’s actually getting off on this, she actually likes this, likes _her—_

Rachel moans loudly, and it’s all confirmed for Chloe in a single instant. “Fuck,” she whispers as Rachel’s teeth scrape her neck, as her knee digs into Chloe’s core, as her whole world seems to be consumed by Rachel’s body and voice and lust. She touches Rachel anyway, puts her hands on her waist and pulls her closer, rocking against her to help her along. Rachel breaks off from giving Chloe that hickey, forehead against Chloe’s shoulder as she pushes hard against her, a low, stuttering sound issuing from her throat.

Rachel’s back arches and she screeches, so unlike her, high-pitched and sudden and totally unpracticed. She seizes in Chloe’s arms, stops breathing for a moment, then collapses against her. Chloe’s body burns with unfulfilled anticipation, but Rachel’s done.

Rachel _came._

The thought short-circuits Chloe’s brain. God, she wants Rachel to just, do, something. Anything. To her. The shitty, tinny phone music shuts off in the middle of the song, taking the light with it. Ran out of charge.

Rachel swallows. Then, suddenly, she lifts herself off Chloe, pawing at the ground for her clothes.

“Rach?” Chloe asks, still too hot to move, limbs eager to pull Rachel back on top of her instead.

“It’s — it’s fucking late,” Rachel mutters, finding her bra first. “Gimme a ride back to the dorms.”

“I, uh — Rachel, I’m like, kinda hosed.” _Come back over here and fuck me,_ she wants to say, _What the fuck are you doing?_

“You’re fine, you’ve only had like, what, four beers?” Rachel rapidly hooks her bra into place, then sits on the ground to struggle with her shorts without taking her shoes off.

“Rachel, that’s a lot.”

“It’s a school night. I got a test in the morning.” Rachel stands up and sighs, annoyed. “Can you get your phone out? I need light.”

Chloe wants to scream. She gets out her phone and turns on the flashlight, aiming it at the wall Rachel had thrown her shirt against. Rachel finds it in short order and throws it on, heading for the doorway. She stops and leans against it, staring Chloe down.

“So you givin’ me a ride, or what?” she asks. Chloe can see her shoulders shaking.

“I—Rachel, I’m—”

“Fine. I’ll walk. Bye.”

“It’s like an hour away!” Chloe insists, starting to get up, but she trips over her feet and nearly faceplants the table.

“Sleep it off if you’re so fucking wasted!” Rachel calls over her shoulder, and then she’s vanished into the dark of the night.

Chloe manages to pull herself up. She walks out into the junkyard, but she can’t even hear Rachel’s footsteps. She makes her way blearily to her truck, hoping that Rachel’s in that direction, but she’s nowhere.

She opens the cab first, grabs the blankets and pillows she’d packed. Like she’d planned. They were gonna fall asleep under the stars tonight. She throws them in the back, then climbs in ungracefully, banging her elbows thanks to an ill-advised vault attempt.

She tries to stare up into the stars, but they just blur. Like everything else.


End file.
